Mental Health
Milestones
Stones standing vigil Witness one destination Not lush adventures I’ve always been fond of the quest tale; enthralled with the idea that simply going to look for the Holy Grail was worthwhile even if you didn’t find it. Milestones are important measures–Hell, I have an entire business plan built out with month over month metrics I need to aim for in this writing endeavor, but it’s important to remember that, while they’re undeniably important, milestones often end up as dull bits of stone along the much wider road. Let them be your guides, not your destinations. The list of places to go in life always ends at six feet under. Take a second and enjoy the spaces in between.
By Matthew J. Frommabout a year ago in Poets
She Watered Her Pain and Called It Growth.
She didn’t bloom overnight. No, her roots were tangled in ache, buried deep beneath years of words unsaid, fears unwept, wounds that never got stitches but still managed to scar. She cried — not just tears, but whole rivers that fed the soil of her silence. Every heartbreak, a crack that let the light in. Every loss, a pruning she never asked for but somehow survived. She watered her pain with trembling hands, not knowing it would sprout into something alive. Not pretty, always — but real. Twisting, reaching, blooming on its own terms. A wild thing growing from what tried to bury her. And when they asked why she smiled with sadness in her eyes, she said, “I learned to grow where nothing was supposed to live.” She no longer fears the rain. She is the garden built from every storm she never meant to weather.
By Azmat Roman ✨about a year ago in Poets
Homesick for a Place That Never Was.
I dream of doorways I’ve never walked through, windows that hold the light just right, a porch that creaks under my imagined steps, where no one waits— but it still feels like home. There’s a tree I’ve never climbed, whose branches know my name. A kitchen with cracked tiles that hum lullabies I’ve never heard but somehow know by heart. I ache for the scent of rain on soil my feet have never touched. For laughter in a room I never sat in, for warmth I only borrowed in dreams. It is not a place, but a feeling— a longing stitched into my ribs, a whisper that follows when the world is too loud. I carry it with me, this home that never was, and grieve it as if I lost it. Even though I never really had it to begin with.
By Azmat Roman ✨about a year ago in Poets
Love Letter to the Unseen
June 24: The Atlas of Invisible Geography - Document the work of someone who can see and map emotional terrain. Include detailed cartographic symbols for different feelings. Use traditional map-making terminology. Consider how emotional landscapes shift over time. End with discovering an uncharted emotional territory. - Daily Poetry Writing Prompts 2025
By Oneg In The Arcticabout a year ago in Poets
Rumbling Through My Thoughts
So many rules cosplaying exceptions So many broken hearts mascarading as healed So many naive acting like gurus So many fearful playing fearless Oh to be lost and found by lost souls that pretend to be found It's like being loved by someone on their last straw, they'll be your last straw Try try try again, not with my heart...I beg Try Try try again, not with my mind...I plead Try try try again, by yourself this time By myself this time Echoes of righteousness, I wish were mine Humming of abundance, I hear from afar. Don't mind me, I'm just rumbling through my thoughts Rumbling through you Hoping to stumble upon the answers
By Ropafadzo Thokozani Zinyuke (Fadzo) about a year ago in Poets
